"Shh, shh- please, Buckbeak." Sirius patted the hippogriff's neck, stroking his feathers as he calmed the beast down. He looked around once again, yet could barely see in the thick fog, and wondered how his guide would find him. Dumbledore had not had much time to describe who would be waiting for him - in fact, he had barely had time to explain the location and at what time he was supposed to be there.
And, to his chagrin, they arrived a couple of hours later than Dumbledore advised.
The travel had been arduous - Sirius knew he had strained Buckbeak, by having him fly at much higher altitudes than he probably enjoyed. But he couldn't afford being seen or tracked - when he went past Britain's borders, he made sure he would be seen leaving, however when he returned, he flew so close to the clouds he had to constantly murmur spells to keep the hippogrif's wings from freezing.
He pulled his ragged coat closer to himself, and a cold shiver went through his body, from head to toe. He would wait a bit more, then try to find a place to rest. He had surely missed the window, and Dumbledore's friend must have left by now. He grabbed the rope around Buckbeak's neck, and slowly started making his way down from the hill.
He didn't know much about the north of England - just enough to find his location. Was he anywhere near a settlement of Muggles, or wizards? He did see upon his descent a thick forest - perhaps he could hide with Buckbeak for the night in its depth, and in the morning try to contact Dumbledore. Yes, that sounded like a plan.
"Sirius? Sirius Black?" a woman's voice rang through the fog, and Sirius tightened his grip on the rope. He prepared to jump onto Buckbeak and return to the skies, when he heard the voice, now accompanied by a flashing of light, continue. "Albus's letter was not as descriptive as I hoped, but-"
The flashing of light was clearer now, piercing through the fog and finally revealing the figure of Dumbledore's friend and who was going to be his future host. She was a tall, lanky woman, with a mane of dark hair stuck to her face from the rain, covering her akin to a cape. She wore several chemises and long skirts on top of each other, giving her forearms the impression of balloons. Over one shoulder, she carried what looked like the pelt of an animal, a thin arm peeking from it and guiding the source of the light - an old gas lamp, floating in mid-air.
"It is you, isn't it? And you!" She took a step towards Buckbeak, and bowed her head. "Albus told me about you too. Ah, what a magnificent thing you are!"
Sirius looked on as the woman made introductions with the hippogriff, and was now lightly petting his neck.
"I haven't had time to arrange much for you both, so you will have to pardon me." The more she spoke, the more Sirius could hear her accent - the rolled r's, the harsh th's. She spoke good English, he thought, yet was very obviously a foreigner. "I did get you this-" With that, she handed him the pelt she had over her shoulder.
Sirius unfolded it with curiosity, narrowing his eyes as he finally realized what the pelt actually was. It was a long, heavy and quite bulky cloak, covered in thick sheep's wool. He put it around his shoulders, and wrapped himself in it, thankful he could not feel the wind whip at his skin anymore. He barely had power in himself to speak, and grunted a weak thanks towards the witch. It wasn't much, yet it was all he needed to get him to move.
"May I?" she tugged at Buckbeak's rope, and he opened it hand, letting her guide the hippogriff. Behind them and the lamp, he slowly started walking, looking up as orange vines slowly revealed themselves from behind hills
Through the mist, the sun was making an appearance.
Try as he might, Sirius could not remember much after that. He hazily remembered a high fence, and entering a door. He remembered the witch talking, but he could not remember a single thing she said. There may have been a door. He remembered falling on a bed, still wrapped in the heavy cloak. There was a thick blanket under his feet, and another one across from him, but he could not muster the energy to lift himself to use either, and decided to sleep cocooned inside the cloak.
Despite his weariness, however, his sleep was perturbed by nightmares. Everything that had been happening in the past months, culminating with the day before, plagued his mind. He curled more and more in the topmost corner of the bed, each time his nightmares would make him jolt upwards. He had a good view of the window and door, and each time he woke up he'd look between one and the other until, exhausted, his eyes would close, again and again.
Oh, how he wished he still had a wand.
Each time he woke, the sun perched itself on the sky, higher and higher, and he could see more and more from the corner he was curled in. The room he'd been put in was white and austere - there was a large wooden trunk near the door, and a desk and chair were basking in the sun under the window. The window was ajar, and an old, yellowed lace curtain fluttered in the window. From outside, he could hear birds singing, and a pair of footsteps moving inside and out. The footsteps had to belong to the witch that brought him in, as each time she'd pass by the window, he could hear her idly humming a song.
Listening to the odd, disjointed melody, he got up from the bed, and finally dropped the cloak around his shoulders. Sirius could feel the tiredness in his bones, could feel his flesh tremble, every joint screaming and aching with every jerk and move he made. Yet he had to get up from the bed. After all, what was better? Falling asleep and having his dreams haunted by Dementors, or being up and having his body physically hurt with each movement?
He had to write to Harry, let him know he was well. Luckily, the desk had just what he needed. He ripped a piece of parchment from a fresh roll nearby, and started writing.
The last few hours of his life seemed unbelievable, the more he thought about them. After thirteen years, he had written to his godson. Not hiding who he was. To his godson, to Jame's son, his spitting image. Who accepted him back in his life, and wished to move in with him. If only this was something he could have offered Harry-... After all, he made a promise to Lily and James. He promised them both, becoming his godfather, that he would protect Harry with his life in case anything happened to them. And yet, he led both of them to their demise by trusting Peter. And then he couldn't get the job finished after their deaths, and let the damn rat escape. Not once, but now twice.
Sirius shook his head from thoughts of Peter, and finished his letter. From the chair, he pulled the lace curtain aside, and looked outside.
He couldn't see much, apart from a large, wooden fence and trees. He looked to his left, and watched the witch that met him a few hours ago slowly move her wand, clothes folding themselves in mid-air from a clothesline into a basket. Instead of the ballooned many-sleeved clothes she had layered the day before, this time she was dressed more like a witch, in thin, light orange robes. He couldn't remember her name, and he almost forgot where he was. It was as if the more he tried to remember what happened after he left Harry,, the less he could remember.
"Sorry-" his voice croaked unpleasantly against his throat, and he suddenly realised just how thirsty he was. By Merlin, he was broken, broken from all points of view.
She turned her head, and asked him if he wanted to eat. She asked as if it were the most normal thing in the world, to have someone you have just met, an escaped convict in the eyes of all wizarding Britain, wake up in your house. As if he were not a stranger, but a long-lost cousin who had just arrived.
"Do you have an owl I could borrow, first?" He was salivating simply at the thought of eating, but had to send his letter. He raised the hand holding it, and watched her approach the window.
"I have some, yes."
She took him outside, to a small shed attached to the house. Inside, Sirius couldn't help but feel more at ease, seeing Buckbeak at least was enjoying a good, long sleep. He followed her to a wide, short window at the edge of the shed, where a few owls were idly basking in the sun, with a particular vivacious one spinning around with a worm in its mouth, seemingly celebrating its capture. An idea was starting to creep in his head, and he pet the small owl with a finger, amused.
"Listen… I don't have money with me now, but could I-"
"As I said before, you can feel at home, you can use any owl you wish."
"No, I don't mean to-... Listen, would you sell me this owl? I will, of course, pay you when I am able to."
The witch looked at the little owl amused.
"This little thing, off my hands? He's been eating at my soul since he was born… If anything, I would pay you for this favor."
He thanked her, took the small owl - to his amusement, it fit in his fist even when he closed it - and went back to the bedroom. He finished the letter by offering the owl to Ron, and ripped another small piece of parchment. On that, he wrote his permission for Harry to go to Hogsmeade. The only thing he could think of right now that would be something of a gift to his godson.
And with that, he sent the small owl on its way.
He rolled the remaining parchment back, and saw a letter peeking out from a corner of the desk - a letter written in a handwriting, in a style, and with an ink color he recognised immediately, even after so many years. He took it, and read it.
My dear,
My apologies for waking you in what surely must be the middle of the night. In around an hour, a good man in great need will arrive, and will need your help. I have sent him to the location of that feast that I had the lovely occasion to attend that one time. He is not safe currently, however I know you can think of enough precautions to keep him without much issue.
I vouch for this man, that he is a good-hearted soul, and it is my humble request for you to treat him as I know you have treated many a friend before. He will travel by hippogriff - a lovely creature you surely will have space to accommodate.
Answer me using the Mirror when you wake up, and I will be able to explain everything.
AD
Dumbledore 'vouched' for him. A 'good man in great need' - would that be how he would describe himself? He wondered how she knew Dumbledore, enough for him to trust a complete stranger.
Sirius closed his eyes, and slumped back on the bed. A year ago, he was in Azkaban. And now, he was free, having sent his godson a Hogsmeade permission slip. And more important, right now he had people, even if only a handful, know of his innocence. People who were actively vouching that he was a good man.
It was only at dusk that he managed to get out of bed again - despite the pangs of hunger he felt, his body refused to move for hours on end, letting him simply stare at the roof, every now and then twitching from the cold in his bones. By the time he sat at the table, he was almost delirious with hunger, and his host's words were nothing but muffled sounds, mixing with the soft guitar noises coming from a nearby gramophone.
He used his nose to guide his utensils between the bowls and his mouth, as his eyelids were too heavy to keep open enough to see. He did not even know if he thanked his host - he surely thought of it, but could barely find it within himself to open his mouth uselessly. When his spoon finally clinked against the bowl and seemed to not gather anything, he stopped, and slumped in his chair.
"Here, eat this too."
He opened his eyes, and saw a small, wet-looking ball that appeared to be made of moss.
"It's going to give you some energy. Clear your head."
Against his better judgment, he grabbed the small object from her hand. It felt soft and cool, and left a nice, fresh-smelling residue on the tips of his fingers. He took a small bite of it and chewed it. As he swallowed it, he started feeling as if a cool liquid was coursing through his veins. Slowly, the feeling of a heavy load dissipated, and he became less and less aware of the pain in his bones.
He ate the rest of the ball, and as he swallowed the last bits with a gulp of water, the fog on his brain seemed to lift itself.
It was at that moment Sirius became painfully aware of himself. That he was emaciated, that he was a thin, raggedy shadow of a man. That he stunk, that his hair was matted and dirty, that he wore the same rags he had been wearing for thirteen years. That this was how he saw his godson, that this was how he saw Remus. That even Snape with his oily hair looked better than he did.
"I'd rather I was without a clear head." he groaned, inspecting his hands and trying in vain to remove the layers of dirt and grime from under his nails.
"Ah- I would have to apologize for that, Sirius Black. I have a tendency to make my mixes strong." she seemed sincerely apologetic, and, for the first time since he meekly proposed to Harry to live with him, he felt slightly embarrassed with himself.
"No, I- no. That's not what I meant. I meant, thank you- for uh, the place, the food. I will repay you when I can, of course. I meant that, well, you can probably see for yourself." With that, he grabbed at the ragged, dirty robes around his collarbones, and lightly pulled at them. "And smell for yourself, I imagine…"
He cracked a smile, and his host pushed her head down, and nodded slightly. It appeared to him that she was almost ashamed to acknowledge it or bring it up, and he couldn't help but burst out laughing - laugh at his selfishness, laugh at her, simply laugh at the situation he was in.
His host, meanwhile, had reached her hands near the table, and pulled out a change of robes.
"I did not have much time to prepare, but I hope this should be enough until I can get more. They are quite old-fashioned, but should do nicely, at least until we will be able to buy you more."
Sirius took them with a bow of his head, and this time he was sure to thank her, and thank her deeply.
"Is there anywhere I can uh, wash?"
"I'll show you around. Take your time - as I told you yesterday night, I have a friend who has a hippogriff sanctuary nearby, so I will take your hippogriff there. Tomorrow, we shall go."
"Go?" he furrowed his brows, surprised.
"We cannot stay here for long. It's the first location you arrived in - the house is safe, it has been in the war and it is now. But there are better places to keep you hidden. For a long, long time. As long as it is needed"
